I've been told by many, including my overachieving mother, that my problem is that I hold people to an unrealistically high standard. Yes, I think we all agree to that especially regarding my dating history. I mean what else would dating an alcoholic unemployed Russian, a trucker, a bouncer, a speed freak, and a dog walker reflect if it wasn't a continuing drive towards idealistic excellence?


This summer was continually complimented on my insight into the Aeneid which would have been a lot more gratifying if it wasn't for the fact that I was the only one who read it. Yesterday, L'Enfant Terrible was burbling on about her third book this year getting published when I interrupted her to inform the meeting about what Barbara Bush said about the improverished survivors of NOLA disaster. (I felt comfortable interrupting her as I had been hearing about her book for a week.) L' Enfant Terrible with a totally straight face said "Who is Barbara Bush?" We actually had to tell her who Barabara Bush was. Crickey she's about as well informed as that poor fool in the DHS who referred to Louisiana as a city. But at least we know that NONE of her books are about national politics.


Today L'Enfant Terrible sees me at the copier and says, "So what is Paradise Lost about?" "It's the retelling of the first three books of Genesis. Why?" "Well because I have to teach it. I am going to be spending a lot of time in your office." Right because why should a university hire somebody who actually, you know, reads what he/she expects the students to read when you hire someone to buy the cliff notes and use my intellectual prowess.


I think I should charge her 85 dollars an hour as a "consulting fee." And maybe an extra twenty for idiot tax.